The Indian Queen
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Act I
[edit]BOY
- Wake, Quivera, wake, our soft rest must cease,
- And fly together with our country's peace;
- No more must we sleep under plantain's shade,
- Which neither heat could pierce nor cold invade;
- Where bounteous nature never feels decay,
- And opening buds drive falling fruits away.
GIRL
- Why should men quarrel here, where all possess
- As much as they can hope for by success?
- None can have most where nature is so kind
- As to exceed man's use, though not his mind.
BOY
- By ancient prophecy we have been told,
- Our land shall be subdu'd by one more old;
- And see that world already hither come.
GIRL, BOY
- If these be they we welcome then our doom.
BOY
- Their looks are such that mercy flows from hence,
- More gentle than our native innocence;
- By their protection let us beg to live:
- They come not here to conquer, but forgive.
GIRL, BOY
- If so your goodness may your power express,
- And we shall judge both best by our success.
Act II
[edit]FAME AND CHORUS
- I come to sing great Zempoalla's story
- Whose beauteous sight so charming bright
- Outshines the lustre of glory.
- We come to sing great Zempoalla's story
- Whose beauteous sight so charming bright
- Outshines the lustre of glory.
ENVY AND TWO FOLLOWERS
- What flattering noise is this,
- At which my snakes all hiss?
- I hate to see fond tongues advance
- High as the Gods the slaves of chance.
- What flattering noise is this,
- At which my snakes all hiss?
FAME
- Scorn'd Envy, here's nothing that thou canst blast:
- Her glories are too bright to be o'ercast.
ENVY
- I fly from the place where flattery reigns,
- See, see those might things that before
- Such slaves like gods did adore
- Condemn'd and unpitied in chains.
- I fly from the place where flattery reigns.
- I hate to see fond tongues advance
- High as the Gods the slaves of chance.
- What flattering noise is this,
- At which my snakes all hiss?
FAME
- Begone, curst fiends of Hell,
- Sink down, where noisome vapours dwell,
- While I her triumph sound,
- To fill the universe around.
FAME AND CHORUS
- I come to sing great Zempoalla's story
- Whose beauteous sight so charming bright
- Outshines the lustre of glory.
- We come to sing great Zempoalla's story
- Whose beauteous sight so charming bright
- Outshines the lustre of glory.
Act III
[edit]ISMERON
- Ye twice ten hundred deities
- To whom we daily sacrifice,
- Ye pow'rs that dwell with fates below
- And see what men are doom'd to do,
- Where elements in discord dwell:
- Thou god of sleep arise and tell
- Great Zempoalla what strange fate
- Must on her dismal vision wait.
- By the croaking of the toad
- In their caves that make abode,
- Earthy dun that pants for breath
- With her swell'd sides full of death,
- By the crested adders' pride
- That along the cliffs do glide,
- By thy visage fierce and black,
- By the death's head on thy back,
- By the twisted serpents plac'd
- For a girdle round thy waist,
- By the hearts of gold that deck
- Thy breast, thy shoulders and thy neck,
- From thy sleeping mansion rise
- And open thy unwilling eyes,
- While bubbling springs their music keep,
- That used to lull thee in thy sleep.
GOD OF DREAMS
- Seek not to know what must not be reveal'd,
- Joys only flow when hate is most conceal'd.
- Too busy man would find his sorrows more
- If future fortunes he should know before;
- For by that knowledge of his destiny
- He would not live at all but always die.
- Enquire not then who shall from bonds be freed,
- Who'tis shall wear a crown and who shall bleed.
- All must submit to their appointed doom,
- Fate and misfortune will too quickly come.
- Let me no more with powerful charms be press'd
- I am forbid by fate to tell the rest.
AERIAL SPIRITS
- Ah, how happy are we!
- From human passions free.
- Ah, how happy are we!
- Those wild tenants of the breast,
- No, never can disturb our rest.
- Ah, how happy are we!
Yet we pity tender souls
- Whom the tyrant of love controls,
- Ah, how happy are we,
- From human passions free!
We the spirits of the air
- That of human things take care,
- Out of pity now descend
- To forewarn what woes attend.
Greatness clogg'd with scorn decays,
- With the slave no empire stays.
- We the spirits of the air
- That of human things take care,
- Out of pity now descend
- To forewarn what woes attend.
- Cease to languish the in vain
- Since never to be loved again.
We the spirits of the air
- That of human things take care,
- Out of pity now descend
- To forewarn what woes attend.
SOPRANO SOLO
- I attempt from love's sickness to fly in vain,
- Since I am myself my own fever and pain.
- No more now, fond heart, with pride no more swell;
- Thou canst not raise forces enough to rebel.
- I attempt from love's sickness to fly in vain,
- Since I am myself my own fever and pain.
- For love has more power and less mercy than fate,
- To make us seek ruin and love those that hate.
- I attempt from love's sickness to fly in vain,
- Since I am myself my own fever and pain.
Act IV
[edit]ORAZIA
- They tell us that your might powers above
- Make perfect your joys and your blessings by love,
- Ah! Why do you suffer the blessing that's there
- To give a poor lover such a sad torments here?
- Yet though for my passion such grief I endure,
- My love shall like yours still be constant and pure.
- To suffer for him gives an ease to my pains;
- There's joy in my grief and there's freedom in chains.
- If I were divine he cou'd love me no more,
- And I in return my adorer adore,
- O, let his dear life then, kind gods, be your care,
- For I in your blessing have no other share.
Act V
[edit]CHORUS
- While thus we bow before your shrine,
- That you may hear great pow'rs divine,
- All living things shall in your praises join.
HIGH PRIEST
- You who at the altar stand
- Waiting for the dread command
- The fatal word shall soon be heard,
- Answer then, is all prepared?
CHORUS
- All's prepared.
HIGH PRIEST
- Let all unallow'd souls begone
- Before our sacred rites come on.
- Take care that this be also done.
CHORUS
- All is done.
HIGH PRIEST
- Now in procession walk along
- And then begin your solemn song.
CHORUS
- All dismal sounds thus on these off'rings wait,
- Your pow'r shown by their untimely fate;
- While by such various fates we learn to know,
- There's nothing, no, nothing to be trusted here below.
This work was published before January 1, 1929, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.
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